College Break
by Confizzledworld
Summary: This was an assignment for my freshmen English class. Melinda returns to Merryweather High, for a brief visit with her old art teacher, Mr. Freeman. Her time is cut short because of a student. And there's a huge surprise Melinda didn't expect at all.
1. The Visit

**Conny:** I wrote this a long time ago, while I still had English class. That was last semester. I miss having English class! Algebra and Biology is boring! Anyway, I had an assignment to make a continuation for the book SPEAK. I'm sure a lot of other students had to do the same, but I figured I would do something a little different.

Also, be on the look out for another SPEAK continuation. I wrote two different continuations, both of which seem extremely impossible. And highly unlikely, but I loved the concept!

DISCLAIMER: ALTHOUGH I UNDERSTAND THE DEPRESSION IN THE STORY, I DONT OWN IT. ...but an original character or two are by me...

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COLLEGE BREAK

I know I shouldn't be coming back to this place, but I couldn't help it. I've missed that cricket-looking guy. No, he's not a half-man, half-bug. He's my art teacher. Mr. Freeman.

Miss Secretary: "I'm not supposed to let non-students in. And you don't have a child to pick up or visit…"

Well, it's just one visit. And I have to go back to New York City tomorrow. I made it into this great college, so I can't be late. This lady better let me through, or else the cops are going to have to take me away.

Me: "Please? It's just a few minutes."

She sighs, then forks over the visitor's pass. I thank her, then get my butt moving to the furthest part of this prison. I walk past my closet, I can't visit that old place. What if there's another student-oh, what the heck? Why not check it out? I step into it, making sure no one is around to see me. When I come in, it's like I stepped back into my past. Well, a much more Martha-ish version. The closet is cleaner, but it's still the sanctuary I knew. The chair is still here. There's new and old trees on the walls. Some of them are mine, the ones that I couldn't save. There's only one other name, besides my own, on these walls. Conny Williams. I should get out, I'm supposed to be visiting my favorite teacher.

I shouldn't be staying here, but I couldn't help it. I want to see if this girl comes back. And just as I hoped, MiniMelinda comes running in. Once she looks at me, she freaks.

MiniMelinda: "Who are you? Are you a senior? Why are you in here? Did my brother send you in to find me? Oh my God!"

I clamp my hands down on her shoulders, she seems too small. I think she's about to have a mental breakdown, so I pull her into a hug.

Me: "I don't know who your brother is. I'm not a senior. I'm only visiting my old hideout… and visiting my favorite teacher."

She stops hyperventilating, I guess I don't need to comfort MiniMelinda anymore. What's so wrong about her brother? I understand there should be a health fear for seniors, but why is it so bad with her brother?

MiniMelinda: "You used to be a Merryweather Hornet?" I know where this is going.

**Outcast Code:**

1.) When you are asked if you are/were a Merryweather Hornet, you give it a moment. After that moment, you mock it.

Me: "I was a 'horny, horny hornet.'" MiniMelinda laughs, I do too. "So… Mr. Freeman is still around?" She nods, so I look at her drawings. They remind me a lot about my drawings.

MiniMelinda: "Wait… you're Melinda Sordino, aren't you?" Oh, so she has looked at these drawings. I guess she was curious who her predecessor was.

Me: "Am I still that famous?" Oops, I meant infamous.

MiniMelinda: "Well, I heard things through my… brother. And these drawings you left." She seems happy she's met me. I'm not much, really. I'm just someone that made it into a good art school, thanks to a teacher that I have yet to even visit.

Me: "I should get going. I have to visit Mr. Freeman." I don't want to leave this girl alone, but I have to get going. My flight back to New York is soon, there's no way I can miss it. I don't have the money to afford that.

As I open the door, she pulls me back in. In her eyes, I see desperation. Did I have that in my eyes? Poor MiniMelinda. She deserves to be recognized by her name, Conny. Conny Williams.

Conny: "Please, you have to help me. I can't… I…" I know how she feels right now. Her throat is burning. There's an iceberg blocking out the words. Tears want to fall, bringing forth the tidal wave of secrets that must be frozen in fear.

What am I supposed to do? I can't hand a fellow Outcast over to the guidance counselor. He was useless to me, and he'll be useless for everyone else. Could she go to Mr. Freeman? Is she ready for that? Conny might be as silent as I was. Could talking to someone she possibly idolizes help her? I don't know. Maybe…

Me: "Here." I pull a piece of chalk from my pocket, it's not that weird. I've found a paintbrush in my coat pocket, I didn't even remember putting it there. Anyway, I wrote my cell phone number on the old chalkboard in here. "Give me a call. I didn't get a chance to talk to someone, so I'm giving you your chance to speak."

She hugs me, then I get going. I'll ask Mr. Freeman about this girl. I walk into his room, just as the bell rings. All the students get moving, I guess it's lunch time.

Mr. Freeman: "Melinda! It's nice to see a fellow artist again. How's NYC?"

Me: "Fine, it's so much bigger than Syracuse. Thank you for telling me about that college."

There, I thanked my favorite teacher for the opportunity I probably wouldn't have gotten. If it weren't for him pressuring me to work harder in art, I wouldn't have even considered majoring in the arts. Ivy is even with me, although, she's been busy working on her science majors, too.

Mr. Freeman: "No problem, Melinda." There was a knock at the door, so we both look to see who it is. I freeze.

Andy Evans: "Mr. Freeman-oh… I'm sorry, I'll just come back later." He leaves, I don't think he recognized me. Did he?

Me: "Why was he… here?" He graduated, he left for good. Didn't he?

Mr. Freeman: "He's tamed, no worries. _Mr. Evans_ is a student teacher, working in the Literature department." The Beast has been tamed? Who put the collar on him? How?

Me: "Alright, I'll trust your judgment."

Mr. Freeman knows what Andy did to me, when he was a senior. I told him, just before the sunset of my freshmen year. It had to be the most liberating thing I've ever done. I told someone the full story, nothing vague, nothing too detailed.

Mr. Freeman: "Believe me, he isn't the boy you knew years ago." Well, Mr. Freeman is good at judging character. If he thinks that monster did change his ways, I'll believe him. I'm not worried about myself, it's the defenseless girls that walk these halls. The ones like Conny.

Me: "There was this girl, Conny. Is she…?"

Mr. Freeman: [smirking] "Melinda, I see great potential in you and that girl. She just needs an extra push." What's with the face? Come on, cricket-man, tell me. I am not about to go back to SYMBOLISM with Hairwoman.

Me: "I should get going, Mr. Freeman. Flights to New York aren't cheap." We say goodbye, so I head out.

As I leave, I notice a girl is running down the hall. It's Conny. A group of guys are down the hall she ran, one of them look like an OlderBoyConny. I see something in his eyes that I recognize. It's the IT infection. IT isn't a person, IT is the thought of having power. Too much power.

OlderBoyConny: "What're you looking at?" I shake my head. It's time to go. Conny will call me, if she needs someone. I'm sure she'll be fine. If I was, then she will too.

Just like Mr. Freeman, I believe she has potential. Just like me, she'll grow out of it. It's the tree. We're the tree. We grow, we survive the harshest conditions, we can _live_. Conny Williams. Melinda Sordino. Mr. Freeman. We're all trees.

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**Conny**: No, this is not a reflection on my life. I just decided to throw my name in there at the last minute. I couldnt think of anything else. Also, that's not my last name. Anyway, was this good? At all? And if it was worth the read, tell me?

If you'd like a continuation... ask for it? Because I wont do anything if I'm not told to do it, alright?

So REVIEW. RAWR.


	2. The Call

[Conny]: And Hello again! I've gotten enough reviews to push me into thinking, "Maybe I should continue this one." Here is another...chapter? Well, I suppose that's what it is. I originally didn't plan on posting this Speak fanfiction. I had actually made another one, then had planned for that one... but I suppose I could post that one some other time? I'm not sure, really. Anyway, enjoy this fanfiction to those who has long awaited its appearance.

Disclaimer: The novel used belongs to its respective owner.

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**Speak - The Call**

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Ugh. Don't those girls get it? It's midnight. Does everyone really need to hear the pounding of that mainstream crud this late? What's with all the screaming? Are they drinking? Probably. I wouldn't be surprised if some guys found their way into the party. It's probably a sex party, one giant orgy.

Me: "How the heck am I supposed to sleep?" Just got back from break, but it's still time to party apparently. Great.

Underneath the bass's heartbeat, there was a ringing. It didn't go with the song. It was classical melody, a piano with added in violins. Wasn't that my ring-tone? I scrambled to find where I put my in-need-to-update phone. After digging through piles of clothes, I finally found the bright light in the dark. My eyes burned, but squirted to see the number. It's no one I know.

Should I answer? I don't normally answer, unless I know the person. Isn't it midnight though? With that raging stampede next-door? I flipped the screen, then held it to my ear.

Me: "Hello? Whoever this is, do you know its midnight?" There was a small, short breath. Sounded so relieved, though still timid.

Midnight Caller: "Melinda, oh…uh, Miss Sordino?" That voice is familiar, but far too quiet. It's a girl, definitely.

Me: "Just call me Melinda. I'm sorry, but…"

Midnight Caller: "Oh, oops. Sorry. It's Conny." Conny? The girl back at Merryweather? I didn't expect her to really call me.

Me: "Is something wrong?"

She was too silent. I almost called her name, but I didn't. Something felt wrong. I waited. And waited. I got up, getting shoes on. Maybe I should find somewhere more calm, at least to save my dying brain cells.

Outside, I find my usual spot in the courtyard. Just under the big ol' oak tree, I finally hear a small whimper. It makes me feel terrible, but what is there I could do for her? I'm miles away from comforting her.

Conny: [stuttering badly] "It's worse, Melinda." What's worse? I know it has to do with her older brother, but what exactly? Is he acting like IT did before? What is he doing? I shouldn't be so curious, I barely know this girl.

Me: "Conny, everything will be all right." What else is there for me to say? I can't tell her that I'll come out to help her. I can't say that her brother is just a jerk. I can't say anything, really.

Conny: "Melinda, I'm _alone_ with Donnie." Donnie? Is that her brother's name? "My parents left me alone with him. They **trust** him." She's upset, scared…lonely. It seems she's vulnerable, so delicate.

Me: "Isn't there someone you can stay with? A friend, family…?" My family really wasn't helpful, but everyone's different. Maybe there was someone that could help her. Someone that was closer. Why does her sad puppy voice affect me so much?

Conny: "Most of my family are out of state, I don't really have…friends." This is just too familiar. Too sad, too depressing. "I shouldn't have called, I shouldn't-"

Me: "Hey, stop." She grew mute. "Conny, it's fine. If I had a chance to talk to someone-_anyone-_I would have reached out." She's already smarter than me. She actually took the chance to reach out, make a leap of faith.

Me: "How about you tell me what's going on?"

As quietly and quickly as she could, Conny gave me a brief summary of what she's been going through. Apparently, Donnie, her brother, loves to torture his little sister. It all began when they were children, when her parents were too blind to realize. They believed it was just playful teasing, but there was much darker intentions. It continued throughout the years, only getting worse. Once he's been able to have her alone in the house, just him and her…she started crying when she got to this part.

Conny: [sobbing] "He did so much… it hurts." She couldn't tell me exactly what. When I was in high school, I had to deal with the fact that I had been raped. That I was being tortured so subtly, so painfully. Conny's been going through this her entire life.

Me: "Conny, everything will be all right." My voice hasn't sounded so soft since I was her age. "Try talking to your par-"

Conny: "They won't listen!" She took in a quick breath. It was dead. I heard something, maybe the phone being moved, then slight thuds.

IT's Apprentice: "Who are you talking to?" IT sounded so irritated, so authority-thirsty. "Answer me!" He sounded closer, too close.

Conny: "N-No one." There was a loud slap, then a small puppy yelp.

Puppy Abuser: "Don't lie to me! Who the hell were you talking to?" Conny let a lie flow from her lips. She had been talking to herself. She had been writing and talking aloud. She was sorry for doing it. She was begging for forgiveness.

Me: [too quiet] "I have to help her." Somehow. How? Do I return to Syracuse? What about college? Should I make up some lie about my mother in the hospital? Or my dad dying? That'd only buy me a week at most. I need something more permanent. More long lasting.

Conny: "No! Please no!" Her voice could break glass. It broke my glass heart. "Please!" There was a laugh. So arrogant.

IT: "I suppose I will be nice tonight, dear sister." Malice laced his voice, yet he sounded so innocent. Maybe their parents only heard the sweet boy that spoke, not the monster within.

Minutes passed. Conny was sobbing, in near silence. I can hear the gasps for air, desperation wanting to escape it all and cowardice preventing the sweet relief. She must have remembered her phone, that I was still on the other line. Or maybe that I hung up. There was more background noise, from both ends. The rattling from her line and the conclusion of another stupid party.

Conny: "I'm sorry." How many times had she said that to people? To her brother? "It's late, I shouldn't keep you up. Sorry to bother-"

Me: "It was a pleasure to talk to you. You weren't a bother." This is just the beginning. In order to heal and recover, one must be stripped down to their most vulnerable and start over. This is Conny's turn to start all over. To let the world know that she's real and that she is changing for the good of herself.

Conny: "Melinda, I won't last a week with my brother." What should I say? It's getting a bit cold, I don't hear pounding music anymore. My feet carry me back inside.

Me: "Conny, you will last. If you have to call me every night, then do it." What else could I say? Go out and find a friend? Possibly a Martha? No, another Heather wouldn't help her. It barely helped me.

Conny: "Thank you so much. I don't know how to make this up to you." She really is a sweet girl, her tone is so sincere. I would have imagined years of torture would have hardened her heart.

Me: "You don't have to make it up to me, really. But it's getting late. I do have college and you better not be skipping school." I skipped school, it wasn't that great. In fact, the most I did was wander and think about everything. I made big realizations that day, but Conny shouldn't follow my footsteps. She needs to find her own path.

Conny: "All right. Goodnight, sleep well." We said goodbye and hung up.

I tried to sleep, but just couldn't. The girl that I remember seeing not too long ago is in my mind. Long, raven hair. Dark, umber eyes. On the short side of the spectrum. Lovely tan skin, anyone would be jealous of. But then I think of bruises all over her tawny exterior. Then have long, baggy clothes covering up the defects. Would her hair be down, or in the ponytail she had before? Does she wear contacts, or is it always glasses? Did I see bags under her eyes? A bit lip?

What am I supposed to do, really? What was I thinking when I gave her my cell phone number? Did I really believe that I could help this kid? She's another Melinda, while her brother is another IT, another AndyEvansBeast.

But didn't Mr. Freeman say that he reformed? That the beast was tamed? I still don't believe it. I would never believe it, but Mr. Freeman is a man to his word. If he trusts the beast, then there really no choice but to believe.

Can Conny pull through? Will she make it through and keep that innocent heart of hers? It's a crystal heart, pure and clear. The only problem with crystal is that it breaks too easily. Is it broken already?

Hope my teachers don't mind me sleeping in class. It's too hard to sleep with all of these questions in my head. It's too hard to get another Melinda out of my head. Another helpless zebra in the land of lions.

Can another zebra help?

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[Conny]: And so... I'm thinking... do you, the reader, want more? If you do, say so! I want a few more others looking at this story and say, "What will happen next? How could you just leave it at that?" Also, if you want to see the first chapter of my other original character for Speak, then ask. Conny and the other character, Charlotte, are in different situations. Conny gets to know about CollegeMelinda, while Char learns to be friends with SophomoreMelinda. Really, if you want anything, just tell me.

Thank you for reading.


	3. The Chance

[Conny]: All right... well, I think I will be updating this story, so I will be switching it to an ongoing story. I'm sorry to those who have been asking for more and didn't receive anything sooner. Truly, I have been having a hard time figuring out this story and I think I know where I might be going with it.

Again, the novel SPEAK does not belong to me. I just want to keep that as a constant reminder...

* * *

This is boring. I've never been so bored in my life. I thought New York City was supposed to be fun, but the novelty wore off rather quickly. If you don't have money, then you can't go shopping often. If you have a job, it probably doesn't pay a whole lot. Not to mention, there's that disgusting riot I have to pass by to get to work. Most of the people don't even know why they're there. It's something about the rich getting richer, while the poor are either the same or getting in worse condition. To be honest, they are only making the problem worse. Look at all of them, they're a bunch of animals rolling around in their own manure (sometimes, literally doing so).

That's beside the point. I still get those phone calls, they still come on a nightly basis. I don't mind helping Conny out, but there has to be more for me to do. I can't really drive back to the town I grew up in, just to help out this girl. I have to deal with college and my stupid job in a department store. I knew people out in Syracuse were rude, but I never imagined that-scratch that, I knew that people from the city would be more irritable than those from my hometown. I know there is something different, though it's not something to celebrate. There is no IT here, but there is not one but two back there.

Last night, Conny's voice was strained and hoarse. I could tell that she was crying, but I couldn't do anything to comfort her. Her parents are useless, just as mine were. They still have no idea what's going on, and they're even starting to try to "help" her. By that, I mean they are making her see someone who specializes with _special children_. It sickens me that they haven't even tried talking to her about things. It's terrible! Maybe I should switch careers, but I think I will stick with my artwork for a while. At least for now.

Donnie, her older brother, has become worse than I could have imagined. Conny had trouble telling me in the beginning, which I am all right with. I know the struggle to let someone in. She told me the move vivid stories as time progressed, ones that I couldn't believe were real. It sounded like she was telling me a horror story, rather than her reality. It went from things that seemed so small, like taunting and ridicules...but it gradually became strangulations and bruising beatings. He's even tried cutting her. Can you guess where her parents were when this occurred?

Well, according to Conny, they were off having another honeymoon. Is it truly possible for parents to be that blind?

Prof: "Have you been paying attention at all, Melinda?" Oh, crap. What? "Apparently not. This is the reason why I asked for you to stay after class."

me: "Yes?" I understand that I haven't been paying attention a whole lot. I haven't gotten much sleep. I have my job, my duty to talk to Conny, and school work. Does anyone know how hard that is?

Prof: "I have an idea. I'm sure you know my good friend, Mr. Freeman, right?" This is where I'm going to zone out. My college art teacher just loves long stories, and I've heard this one before. About how they met in a riot decades ago and how they instantly became friends. It's boring. "-was thinking you'd want to go home for a while, but you don't seem interested."

me: "What?" He repeated himself, speaking slower. He's treating me like a child with that voice, but at least I can hear what he had to say. He explained, in great detail, about how I could become a student teacher. I didn't really have the idea of becoming a teacher, but apparently it would do me some good. Oh, and not just me.

Prof: "So, will you do it?" How in the world am I supposed to say no?

* * *

I made arrangements with a friend of mine, so that I don't have to live with my parents again. It' s been a while since we've talked, but I think it will be okay. We can get along quite well, but we still haven't spoken with each other until yesterday. I wonder what it's like back- oh, I already know what its like back home. Second semester means that its raining and its windy. Not to mention, Valentine's Day is just around the corner.

Ivy: "I can't believe you're leaving already!" She followed me out here to this college (or rather, I followed her), but now we have to split up for a while. It's shocking, we've actually become good friends and roommates here. Now she can have wild parties in our room, while I'm gone (I know she's dying for something like that).

me: "I'm not going to be gone too long, but to think I won't be shopping with you for a while!" She's an amazing shopper. Ivy knows just what to pick (both for health and financial reason) and how to haggle with people. Really, if I didn't have here around...I think I would be having a more serious money issue.

Ivy: "I'll see you soon, Melinda." She gave me a quick squeeze, then I got into my car. She waved and I honked my horn, then I was off. No use in saying goodbye, when you'll see them again.

* * *

While on the highway, my phone started playing classical music. Crap, I can't talk right now, but what if it's urgent?

Inner me: "Come on, it's not like you're texting and driving."

me: "Fine." I was able to answer the call before it went to voicemail. "Hello?"

Conny: [muffled] "Why won't you just leave me alone?"

Donnie: [also muffled] "Stop struggling, bitch." After he said that, she yelped. "There."

Conny: "Let me go!"

me: "Conny!" It's like no one heard me.

Donnie: "Tell me who you keep talking to. Is it that manwhore?" Yup, I hate this boy. I hate him do much.

Conny: "I'm not talking to anyone!" Each cry I heard after the constant pounding made me wince. My hands looked like bleached bones, while clinching onto the wheel.

Conny: "Stop, please stop!" Her voice changed. She wasn't as strong as she started out. There was desperation and fear drowning her out.

Donnie: "Give me one reason why I should." Malice thickly laced his voice. If I could, I'd rip his arrogance from his throat.

Conny: "I-I'm...a dirty slut...y-you wouldn't want t-to...defile yourself..." There was a silence, but ended with his malevolent laughter. If I didn't know any better, he was the evil warlock that succeeded in achieving his goal.

Donnie: "True. You're spared." There was muted footsteps, then I heard the absolute closing of a door. There was ruffling, like sheets and pillows were being moved.

Conny: "I can't take this..."

me: "Conny?" I still wasn't heard.

Conny: "Why can't they see? Oh, yeah...I'm not showing them. I really am a bitch." The sobbing started, but I can't do anything about it. I found myself tearing up and speeding. If I can make it out there soon, maybe I could help? But I can't find her, I don't know where she is. I don't know what I can really do.

Conny: "Why can't I just die? It's not like someone cares." I want to scream, but she laughs. "I have an angel, I think. Grandpa always said...that there'd always be someone out there to watch over me."

I don't know why, but for once... I actually smiled for this girl. I have always had a fear something terrible would happen to her, that maybe I should always be concerned for her. Even though I never truly had a family member that loved me, there was at least _one_ person out there that gave a damn about me. I suppose they'd have to be angels to have cared for someone like me, so am I that angel for Conny?

Cheery Lady: [strange accent] "Conny! Donnie! We're back."

Cheery Man: [strange accent] (starts speaking a language I couldn't even comprehend)

Conny: "I don't want to eat..." Her phone ends up shutting off, just as I turn off the highway. I'm careful and shut off my phone, so I could pay more attention to the road.

I suppose... maybe she still has a chance. I'm sure that Conny can survive a little longer. I'll be around soon enough and maybe I can make a difference. Not to mention, I get to see the cricket-man again.

**I'M HERE**. Text was sent and within two seconds, I parked in front of the house I will be staying at for a while. It's nicer than I would have thought. Really, how can someone afford a house this nice in this crappy town?

The door opened, and the first thing I saw was a welcoming smile. Yup, I think I can get used to this.

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[Conny]: So... will it really take another few months for me to continue this story? Probably. If I get more reviews...it might update faster. I'm still not too sure where it will be going, but who is this person that Melinda meets in the end? You'll have to ask for it! But thank you for reading and I hope you review!


	4. The Class

[Conny]: 17 reviews? Thank you goes out to everyone that has followed this story and is being patient for it! You're much better than my other readers, honestly. But my special thanks goes to _shadow, Marie King, totally loko x10, ForeignMusicLyrics, and kitty tokyo uzumaki_ for reviewing the last chapter. Really, I love you guys for leaving small comments for this story. They seem like small little words to you, but to me... it's like the world has been brightened.

Disclaimer: You know the proper owners of Speak, so shall we begin?

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There is really no way a college student owns this house on his own. I don't care if he is going into science or politics, this is just beyond belief. The walls were white, without a single stain in sight. The windows are large, letting in sunlight to fill the rooms. The floors were solid hardwood, not a scuff to be seen. The ceiling was so high up, offering a more open atmosphere. There was art hanging on the walls and you could see part of the second floor from the living room. This house-mansion is just incredible.

me: "Just where in the world did you get the money to buy this house?" Redirecting college loans? Parents funding? The president recognizing his intellect? I must know.

David: "My parents made an agreement with a few people and this became my birthday present." I want his parents now. "Although, I had to bust my back to earn this house. It was worth it." So from here, he lead me around. The kitchen looked like something out of a catalog, marble top counters and what looks like bar-table and the bar stools to go with it, dark wood cabinets, a fancy stove and oven...I'm starting to get mad at how lavished he is living. Is this how he used to live before?

He brought me up the stairs and showed me around. There were two sets of bathrooms, which made things extremely convenient for the both of us. The guest bedroom looked similar to a master bedroom: big furniture, big bed, lush carpets and a window that looked out onto the street.

me: "This cannot be my room." David tugged my bags inside and placed them by the bed (which already had covers and everything).

David: "Yes, this is going to be your room. Unless, of course, you want to live somewhere else. I don't think a motel will live up to these standards." I always hated how he could easily twist people around his finger. But then again, without him...history class would have been the worst place to go to back in high school.

me: "I'm at least going to pay you back."

* * *

The next morning, I set my alarm so that I would wake up before him. I learned his kitchen quite quickly, and I got breakfast cooking by the time he came downstairs. He was merely in boxers and a loose tank top. I guess I figured out he's not a briefs kind of guy.

David: "What are you doing?" He is still obviously tired. Right now, I'm hopped up on caffeine and sugar. Thanks goes to coffee.

me: "Making breakfast." He sits down in one of the bar stools and watches me cook.

David: "Never did ace Gourmet class, back in high school." I remember when we had that class together. It was junior year and he nearly burned down the school because of his poor cooking skills. He became the teacher's worst enemy.

me: "I'm guessing you just eat toast for breakfast and peanut butter sandwiches for lunch?" I just realized, his stove looks almost completely unused. "Or maybe fast food?"

David: "I usually pick up a sandwich on my way to school." He's a college guy who has his own home? I'm pretty sure he has a job too. "And dinner usually comes from that Chinese joint down the road."

me: "Since I passed gourmet class, you can trust me to not burn down your house." He shrugged, still trying to shake sleep off his shoulders.

After placing a plateful of French toast and omelets down, tall glasses of OJ were gracefully poured out. The sunlight filtering through the windows and the warmth of the room reminded me of something in a movie. It's like there was a couple staying in a European villa-

David: "Hey, Melinda?" Huh, what? "Not that I don't enjoy your company or cooking, but why did you come back to Syracuse?"

me: "I'm being a student teacher, at least for a while." It's kind of difficult to travel from my dorm in NYC to here, so I'm using him. That actually sounded harsh. I'm... I can't think of a nicer word than "using."

David: "Teacher, really? For what?" I thought he was tired, but he's acting as though he was that boy back in high school. That intellectual, analytical guy who questioned everything.

me: "Just in the arts. I'm starting at Merryweather." He was hiding a smile, wonder why.

David: "I see." He was all done eating, just as I was about to finish. "Do you need a ride?"

me: "Are you going to offer me a ride in your Porsche?" His laugh filled the air. It was hard not to smile to him.

David: "Actually, it's a Corvette."

* * *

He wasn't joking when he said it was a Corvette. But it was more than just a Corvette. It was race-car red with soft leather seats and an engine that sang so sweetly. He took pride in saying that it was the '77 Corvette, the 'best of all.'

I swear, everyone is looking at us as we drive by.

me: "I never figured you would have this car." I believed he would go with a car like a Prius or something. Maybe a car that would be cheap and wouldn't be ruined in the winters. He knows Syracuse weather.

David: "This is just my summer car. I have a car for winter." I cannot believe him. "I'm kidding. I switch cars with my parents."

me: "That's believable." We stopped in the forbidden parking lot, the one only teachers use. Principal Principal still has his fancy duck mobile parked in its special place. The other vehicles obviously belong to the teachers: all of them are cheap trucks or minivans.

David: "Just call me when you're done here, okay?" He accidentally brushed my hand, but I pulled it away quick. I still don't like being touched. My head bobbed up and down, knowing words would fail somehow.

David: "If you need lunch, tell me." I shrugged then crawled out of his beloved corvette. Waving bye, he zoomed off in red hot heat.

Principal: "It's nice to know my student art teacher could make it in a timely manner." His floppy lips disgusted me. I should have reconsidered this school.

me: "I just punch in, right?" He took a deep, dramatic sigh. Maybe he was reminding himself of his failed dream in the theater.

We awkwardly walked into the old building together. Nostalgia overflowed, seeing the cracking walls and degraded furnishings brought back the main events of my freshman year. The rest of high school was good to me, but was definitely still haunted by the Beast.

Principal: "You were a student here, Miss…Sordino?" Did he remember my name or is it just the tag I'm wearing that gave away my name? Maybe I should wear a collar, giving the information that's needed.

me: "Yes." And I hated it too.

I turned and headed down to the art room. Some students were already walking into the building, but I haven't seen that small raven. I figured she could be hiding in the closet, so the sanctuary became my detour.

It was still up to Martha standards, but the walls were littered with dead trees and hanged birds. Every drawing showed a progression of suffering and tears. I never thought of using the tree like this.

Conny: "What are you doing here?" After a moment, her false anger melted away by her tears. The petite girl rammed into my body, forcing a hug upon me.

me: "Conny, what happened?" The door was closed and the bells were not supposed to ring for another few minutes. I think a sob story could be told in the meantime.

Conny: "Nothing, I'm fine. I'm glad you're here!" She doesn't sound too happy; even though it's obvious she injected joy into her words. "You never answered your phone or anything, so I thought you got irritated."

me: "I don't mind you venting to me. I don't find you irritating at all." She's far too modest and kind, even with all this pain inflicted upon her soul. I can't believe she's being put through this.

Conny: "Wh-why are you here?" Her voice became a lot softer, yet thick with gushing waters. "You're in college, aren't you?"

me: "From now on, I'm going to be watching over you."

Our time to catch up was cut brief by the bell. Conny ran as fast as she could, not wanting to be late for class. I suppose I should be acting the same way, but this is just Cricket—maybe I should start calling him Mr. Freeman. It's only the right thing to do, considering I'm going to working alongside him.

Freeman: "Ah, my favorite college student!" The bug-man put down his brush and tore off his apron to pull me into a hug. I hate hugs, but I can't tell him to let go. It didn't even last that long anyways.

Faceless Blonde: "Mr. Freeman? Who's the chick?" Did that boy really just call me that?

Freeman: "I would prefer it if you called your new student teacher by her proper name: Miss Sordino." The seniors of this class all gave me stares. I know there hasn't been a lot of time since I've graduated, so maybe these are the kids from when I was a senior? Or maybe they were still in junior high? All I'm sure of is that they probably know me too well.

Faceless Brunette: "You're Melinda Sordino?" The juniors in the class seemed a bit confused. They were probably left out of the loop when they were younger. "The one that got Mr. Evans put in jail?"

Anime Girl: [brushes neon blue hair out of her face] "Mr. Evans was jailed? For what?"

Bald Boy: "You didn't know that he r—"

Freeman: "Silence, students! This is a place of art and expression. Now, I will lend you to Miss Sordino for the time being. She has full rights to send you detention and to give you failing grades, so do be aware." He turned and offered a smile to me. I suppose that's his way of wishing me luck.

Miss me: "All right, class. Just for the sake of it," what the heck am I supposed to do? "Can all of you pull out your sketchbooks and use whatever medium you want to how me who you are?" To be honest, I have no idea what I am doing.

Bald Boy: "Anything? Does it have to be in the sketchbook?" I suppose I shouldn't limit these guys.

Miss me: "If you want to use clay or other materials, go ahead. It just has to be done by the end of class." Everyone rushed and got right down to business. Many pulled out pencils, while others fought over mounds of clay. I looked to Freeman, who was busy enjoying his free-time.

By the end of the first class, everyone crowded around and handed in their projects. That is, every one besides one student. The bell rang, calling the students to rush out. The lone boy walked right up to me. I recognized him so easily, but it wasn't because of how similar he and his sister looked so alike. It was the animalistic glare in his eyes that made me remember him so well.

Miss me: "Donnie, I would presume." The arrogant grin upon his face made me want to slap him.

Donnie: "Nice to meet you, Melinda—oops, I mean, Miss Sordino. I look forward to spending the rest of the semester with you." He left with his things, distilling the air with his putrid atmosphere.

* * *

[Conny]: Well, I think this is a little shorter than my usual chapters, don't you think? Tell me what you think of David and Donnie and Conny please? Also, please tell me if I'm still in-character for Melinda? I haven't read Speak in such a long time, I'm afraid that I am not speaking as she would. Until next time, my fabulous readers!


	5. After Class

**Conny:** I hope you understand how hard it is to write a story in a week. I understand that I've had months/years, but I just had to take an extended hiatus, which I think now officially ends. Please understand that I know this is fairly short, as I've been very busy this past week. I hope this story is living up to all of your expectations-I hope it continues to live up to your expectations. I have to thank everyone who reviewed the previous chapter, but I need to extend a greater thanks to _Marie King_, who had PM-ed me when I updated a different story. Her eagerness spurred me into promising her that I'd finish this chapter in a week. It was difficult, but I hope its all worth while. Thank you.

* * *

me:

I actually think I enjoy being an art teacher. All of the different works intrigue me, at least, so far they have.

Anime Girl of courses like a Japanese cartoonist and makes an anime portrait of herself. I'm not really into drawing in anime, but her style is pretty neat. It's a blend of realism and cartoon-so no outrageously large eyes, but still retains the expressiveness in the eyes that anime shows. I give her an A for today.

Bald Boy made himself a clay statues of those creep hip hop clowns. I don't remember what they were, but they sure kinda freaked me out. I didn't peg him for the hip hop type, but well, clowns, maybe. I'll give him an A too.

Around and around the room I went, examining each of the pieces. There are flowers and rainbows, ponies and dragons, stick figures having sex, and- I shudder.

me: "Freeman, I don't like this one."

He comes over and glances at the base of a potential masterpiece-of me and my shirt unbuttoned. I almost want to throw up. I don't understand why boys have to constantly think about girls and sex. The stick figures I didn't mind (I think it was two guys, or else someone had an extra leg), but this is just…

Freeman: "This would be Michael. He's been held back for a few years, but he's definitely graduating this year." So he's an adult stalking the hallways of a high school. Potential IT infection, must remember to observe for symptoms.

I make my way to the back of the room and find the last thing I wanted to see. It was a clay tree of death. This wasn't a tree of grief and sadness, but one of malevolence and inhumanity. A serpent slithered up the trunk with a dead bird on the ground. I hated that the evil actually made this sculpture seem alive.

Freeman: "The Williams are impressively gifted." Was that grudging or sincere? "Hmm, it seems one fell."

The malformed creature was once a bird, I am sure of it. However… this bird wasn't petite like the dead one. This was a bit more plump, a slightly larger beck, and much shorter tail feathers.

My eyes glanced to the right, a mirror showed me the answer. A woman with a bit more fluff on her body, a bob haircut that gave way to a more distinct nose…

me:

* * *

I took one look into the Zoo and I realized I wasn't ready to go back to the grubs they fed the animals. I should have cooked a lunch.

Messages zipped to and fro between David and I.

me: "I'm hungry."

David: "What do you want?"

me: "Not fast food or chinese."

David: "Five star meal?"

me: "Perfect."

I wait indoors, since the warmth drained away from the day. Rain drenches every car, and I almost feel bad about the person who left their convertible bug without a roof. Although, I think people need to learn to take a hint. This is New York, weather changes with a snap and if some quintessential being decides it is going to rain, there shall be rain.

When that quintessential being says food must be delivered, is it. David parks his car and runs to me with a plastic box in tow. I open the door-totally against the rules, but the office ladies are off at lunch as well-and allow the drenched man-boy in.

David: "Your food, my awfully picky housemate."

me: "Thank you." I can't find words nice enough to fire back, so I take the food away. My stomach rumbles it's thanks to him.

David: "I hope the lady enjoys Thai."

me: "She does."

What is this? Is this that strange occurrence called casual talk? Or is this that even stranger occurrence called flirting? Something so foreign doesn't happen to something so alien like me. I haven't truly spoken to a guy my age in a while. I didn't make many male friends out in NYC and to be honest, David was the only guy I really talked to back in high school. Male teachers and store clerks and now students are hard to avoid, but talking to them is different from this.

David: "I'll see you tonight?"

me: "Nah." I pause, trying to find laughable material. That doesn't really work.

David: "I drove you to work today, who will take you home?" Why does he have to be so smart? I really want to wipe that smirk off his face. It bothers me that he got me with this.

Wait. Aha. Unfortunately, before my lips could move, lightning vaporizes a tree by the school. Thunder murders our eardrums and several screams wail through the school.

David: "Hate to run off, but I'll get you later." He runs back to his car, while I rush back into the building.

Freshmen are all panicking in the lunch room, so I go in to help keep the lion cubs and zebra foals in their seats. We hear the tree snap and then the lights go out. Turns out we don't have-half of the lights flicker back.

HairWoman: "Calm down, kids! Calm down?"

Mr. Neck: "Listen up!" All the anxious animals ceased their commotions and listened to the beefy man. The monkeys stopped their chattering and eased their whipping tails, while the growling lions and the skittish zebras sat still.

me:

Why can't I find her? With Mr. Neck around, no one will really have any problems with these kids, so I leave and go into the bathroom. Some of the girls are hiding out in here and doing their makeup, so I send them back to the lunch room.

I look under stall number one and find two girls trying to hide. I step back and clear my throat. I did not expect that one right away.

me: "I won't send you to the office, if you go to the lunch room."

The door swings open and two girls stand together. Goldilocks looks like a fairy, while her partner looks like the alpha wolf of a pack, very intimidating and stands proud.

Wolfie: "Thanks."

Fairy: "Sorry about this, it won't happen again."

They scurry off and now I have to check under doors two and three. Thankfully, two is empty, which leaves door number three.

Conny: "You don't need to look… I'm here, Melind-I mean, Miss Sordino."

* * *

**Conny:** Like I said, this was extremely short. Give me time to find the plot again and I promise to give you an even better story. In the meantime, please review and tell me what you think? Again, thank you for your patience and your support of this story.


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